


Move, I'm Gay

by Wooly_Marmalade



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Attempt at Humor, Crack, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Timeline Mash Up, Trans Blaise Zabini, Trans Character, all the cliches, flamboyant gay harry potter, harry attempts to avoid homophobia via vlogging and witty comebacks, harry attempts to seduce the entire male population of hogwarts, harry gets lifestyle advice from wikihow, proud ally hermione granger, slytherin printers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23258314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wooly_Marmalade/pseuds/Wooly_Marmalade
Summary: Harry Potter, having lived closeted (literally) with the Dursleys, decides to spend his new boarding school life being the gratuitous and unapologetically gay fiend he really is.A crack-y, non-magic, time-line mashup, modern boarding school au featuring out and proud Harry Potter and his homosexual adventures.
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Sirius Black/Harry Potter
Comments: 190
Kudos: 515





	1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter clutched his school bag, adorned with a plethora of gay pins he ordered off Amazon (featuring brilliant slogans such as ‘gay and angry’ and, his favorite, ‘teenage lesbian’) and stood at the platform of 9 ¾ King’s Cross Station, gazing upon the Hogwarts Express. This is it. No longer did he have to live closeted (literally) with the Catholic gremlins known as the Dursleys—who, Harry thought, for a family that preached the importance of household love and harmony, surprisingly loved their child abuse—and could finally live out and proud. After sacrificing his Tumblr blog in middle school in order to focus on his studies, Harry managed to get a scholarship to the prestigious Hogwarts boarding school, marking the beginning of a Dursley-free lifestyle. 15 years old and unapologetically gay, Harry Potter was ready to live out the queer high school life of his dreams.

\---

Harry sat, of course, at the very front of the train. It was important to let his presence be known to everyone who walked in, establishing his place as the alpha lesbian. Hogwarts unfortunately had a dress code consisting of black trousers, a grey cardigan, and a tie, which meant that Harry had to save his gloriously flamboyant fashion for the weekends. However, Harry was sure that the adorable rainbow heart pin he stuck in his hair would be enough to impose his exuberant homosexuality on any and all passerby.

Harry arrived a bit early, wanting to secure his desired seat on the train, but soon students began filing into the train. He was pleasantly surprised when the first person to sit in his booth was an adorable blonde boy whose entire being screamed ‘posh twink.’ Harry, having made it a goal to become known as a homosexual sex god during high school, was excited at the chance to secure his first conquest via his superior seduction skills. However, just as Harry opened his mouth to woo the boy with his sexy pick-up lines, the blonde twink spoke.

“Nice pin, loser," the boy sneered.

Oh no! Harry was most certainly not expecting to deal with a homophobe right off the bat. He had certainly known he would come across bumps in his homosexual agenda, but it was a bit disheartening to see it happen so soon. Nonetheless, Harry would not be discouraged. He remembered the WikiHow articles he had bookmarked on what to do when encountering douches: stay calm and don’t antagonize them. Harry took a deep breath in and stayed rational.

“You know, for someone who copied Ellen DeGeneres’s hairstyle, you sure are surprisingly homophobic.”

Hell yeah, a witty comeback! Harry mentally high-fived himself inside his head. He glanced at the boy, who was clearly attempting to look intimidating by raising a sassy eyebrow, and noticed that he looked quite cute when blushing, even when out of anger. Before the boy could get out what was no doubt another ridiculously offensive remark, Harry put his hand up and shushed him.

“Stop! Don’t say anything. I’m moving booths.” Harry got up, slamming his palms on the table in front of him, and started looking for another seat. He would let the blonde prick stew in his embarrassment at having a dubiously lesbian looking haircut and wouldn’t grant him the satisfaction of thinking of a comeback. While most of the train was already moderately filled up, he spotted a girl sitting alone at the very back, immersed in a book. Harry quickly made his way over to her and plopped down across from her seat, placing his bag under the table.

“Hello! What are you reading?” Harry, having interacted with plenty of bookworms during his Tumblr days, knew that the way to this girl’s heart was through copious amounts of literary discussions.

“Oh, hello!” The girl, who seemed pleasantly shocked by Harry’s emergence, finally looked up from her book. “I’m reading a Russian novel, The Brothers Karamazov. It was Dostoyevsky’s final novel, you see.”

“Brilliant. Did you know I’m gay?” Shit, Harry thought, was that too blunt? Maybe he should have talked a bit more about books first. To be perfectly honest, he couldn’t care less about Dostoyevsky, but he could certainly try.

“Oh,” the girl’s eyebrows furrowed. “That’s good! I’m straight myself, but I was a proud member of the GSA club at my old school. I’m very much a believer of the gay rights movement.” The girl gave Harry a small, shy smile.

Harry beamed. Day one and he had already secured what he knew would be his best friend for the years to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my friend: why don't you try writing a fanfic  
> me: man, i wouldn't know what to write about
> 
> me at one am: ok but what if harry potter was an unapologetic gay boy just trying his best


	2. Chapter 2

3:07

hey hoom what pages did we have to do for mcg’s class?? srry i fell asleep lol

3:08

_64-65. Also, sorry, what? Hoom? Is this more of that Tumblr stuff?_

3:09

lmao no it’s short for hermione dumdum as if i’m gonna type that shit out every time

3:10

_How is Hoom short for Hermione??_

3:11

as long as the first letter is the same it counts as a nickname srry not srry i didn’t make the rules

3:12

_Right… Also, you do realize we’re in the same room?_

Harry sighed.

“You don’t get it at all, Hoom. Texting solidifies friendships. Also, what did you get for the second question?”

“Could you please not call me that? And I’m not telling you; you always just copy my answers. If you actually paid attention in class, maybe you’d be able to do it yourself?”

“Boo,” Harry pouted. “It’s not my fault. Malfoy’s in that class! As if I could focus on history when I could stare at his luscious locks instead.”

“Malfoy’s a homophobic prick,” Hermione frowned.

“I honestly don’t see your point?”

Hermione gave Harry her iconic Judgmental Stare #4 and went back to finishing her homework.

\---

“-tter. Potter!”

Harry jerked up from his sleep as someone roughly shook his shoulder. What a douche, everyone knows Professor Snape’s class is Harry’s coined nap time. He turned his head to viscously glare at whoever dared to wake him up, only to have his mouth suddenly turn dry. Harry quickly schooled his expression into that of his Smolder™ and winked.

“Hey cutie.”

Draco scowled.

“As much as it pains me to be around you, Potter, I regret to inform you that Professor Snape assigned us as lab partners.”

“Oh. That’s great!” Harry beamed. “I look forward to it.”

Draco (clearly seduced by his award-winning smile, Harry thought) furrowed his eyebrows and frowned.

“Right.”

Harry kept grinning up at the blonde, continuously making the latter’s face twist in frustration. The silence stretched for a few awkward minutes, with Draco impatiently tapping his fingers on the table, until Harry finally broke it.

“Right. Well, give me your number, yeah? So we can exchange lab info and such.”

When Draco reluctantly did so, Harry immediately saved his contact as ‘Posh Twink’ and sent him a winky face. Draco glanced at his phone, frowned, and left him on read.

Harry thought that his scowl looked especially cute today.

\---

12:04

kk so how about i do the data analysis and u do the intro and conclusion

12:05

_…That’s fine, but are you sure you know how to do the data analysis? You were sleeping in class and your intelligence, quite honestly, is of dubious quality._

12:06

stfu

12:06

ellen degeneres looking ass lmao

12:07

i already did the data anyways so boo for u :p

12:10

_Alright, first of all, you already used that joke the first time we met, and using it again is only a sign of your lackluster wit. Second of all, how did you manage to get the data done that quickly?? Did you cheat off Granger again?_

12:11

lmao no i was in bio club in my old school so i just rushed thru it no biggie. anyways i sent u the doc so feel free to write the intro and conc whenever

12:12

_…Right. I’ll finish it tonight. I’m shocked that someone like you was actually interested in academic extracurriculars._

12:13

not all of us can afford to come here by leeching off daddy’s money ;)

12:21

boo, no more banter? did i hit a sore spot?

12:23

 _Piss off, Potter_.

\---

Harry spotted Draco leaving the dining hall and quickly rushed to catch up with him, giving him a certified Gay Booty Bump™ in the process.

“Hey Malfoy!”

“…Potter. Do you honestly make it your life goal to annoy me as much as possible?”

“No-o. I was just wondering if you wouldn’t mind letting me use the Slytherin printer? The one on the Gryffindor floor is broken.”

“I’m not surprised. Every one of your dormmates seems to be lacking in not only decorum, but common sense as well. Did Weasley attempt to use chocolate syrup as ink again?” Draco sneered.

“Oh yes yes, snakes are better, blah blah, I get it. Can I use your printer or not? It’s for the lab.”

Draco swiftly turned away and started walking towards his dormitory, but when he stopped and glanced back before continuing on, Harry grinned and followed after him.

\---

The Gryffindor printer was not, of course, actually broken. Hermione made sure that everyone was well-informed of proper machine usage the first day they were assigned to their dorms. When Harry was sitting on Draco’s bed, naked from the waist up, waiting for the blonde boy to grab him a spare shirt because he ‘accidentally’ spilled his water bottle all over his front, however, Harry knew his plan was a success.

“You know, Potter, given how clumsy you are, I’m honestly surprised you haven’t offed yourself yet. A man can only dream, I suppose.”

Harry smirked. He glanced at Draco, whose cheeks were burning red and who was desperately attempting to avoid looking at Harry.

“Oh, I’m sure I know just what kind of dreams you’re having about me,” Harry winked.

Draco bit his lip.

“Not everyone is a dirty fag like you, Potter.”

Harry frowned, and Draco couldn’t seem to be able to meet Harry’s eyes.

“Is that what your dad tells you?”

Draco was silent, expression blank, before roughly throwing a shirt at Harry.

“Get out,” he growled.

Harry stayed.

Draco grabbed him by the arm and slammed him against the wall.

“Get. Out.”

Harry hesitated.

“It’s what my uncle used to say, you know. Before he beat me. I used to pretend I was straight so he wouldn’t lock me in the cupboard.”

Something flashed in Draco’s eyes and his grip on Harry’s arm left visible nail indents, almost breaking the skin.

“If you won’t leave, then I will,” he muttered quietly.

He half-heartedly pushed Harry away and started walking away, but before he could make it out his room, Harry flipped him around and hugged him.

“Piss off, Potter,” Draco tried pushing him away, voice choked.

Harry tightened his arms and let Draco’s head fall on his shoulder. Slowly, Draco brought his hands up behind Harry’s back and returned the hug. If his shoulder felt suspiciously wet from Draco’s tears, no one would be none the wiser.

\---

Later, when the two of them lied side-by-side on Draco’s bed, ignoring the puffy redness of Draco’s eyes, Harry smiled.

“I always knew you were gay,” he teased.

Draco scoffed.

“Oh, please,” he sniffed. “We all know you were simply projecting your dirty fantasies onto me.”

Harry smirked. “Maybe.”

It was comfortable, lying in the silence with Draco. He could hear every breath the blonde took, could see it in the way his chest rose and fell rhythmically.

“You can talk to me about it, you know,” Harry whispered. “You don’t have to tell your family if you don’t want to, but you can tell me. I’ll always listen if you need it.”

Draco nodded, pulling Harry in for another hug.

“Yeah,” he rasped. “Thanks.”

Harry smiled and finally got up from the bed.

“Well,” he said. “Guess I better get going. Still have to finish that essay for McGonagall and all.”

Draco gave him a shaky nod and led him to the door. Before he could leave, Draco squeezed his arm and cleared his throat.

“Potter?”

“Yeah?” Harry smiled up at him, biting his lip.

“I- I think it’s cute. Your pin, that is.”

“Thanks,” Harry beamed. “I know.”

This time, Draco smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> harry says drarry rights


	3. Chapter 3

Harry couldn’t say he expected to be joined at the hip with Draco after that, but it was still a bit disappointing when the boy continued ignoring him in public. He understood, of course, that Draco couldn’t risk his father finding out from one of his schoolmates that he’s been associating with ‘the gays,’ but Harry felt a slight pain in his heart nonetheless.

Even so, when no one else was looking, Draco sometimes flashed him a warm, genuine smile he knew none of his other friends got to see. Somehow, that made it all worth it.

\---

“Harry! What’s up? I got your text and came as soon as I could! Are you okay?” Hermione gasped, out of breath.

“Hermione, listen! Sirius Black found my vlog!” Harry wheezed out.

Silence.

“Sorry, what?”

“My vlog! You know, that one where I post videos of me doing stupid shit and sometimes you show up and anyways Sirius Black found it!”

“…And why is this a big deal?”

Harry stared at her incredulously. “Because he’s hot? Honestly Hermione, for a so-called ‘straight girl,’ you sure are kind of slow with these things.”

Hermione gave up trying to argue and plopped herself down on Harry’s bed.

“So, this is a… good thing then?”

“Yeah! Well, no! It’s complicated!” Harry sighed. “On one hand, it’s embarrassing because he sees me do stupid shit. On the other hand, maybe he thinks that’s endearing and he’ll fall in love with me. It’s anyone’s game at this point, Hermione!”

“Right.”

“Right! What should I do, Hoom?” Harry asked desperately.

“Mm. I guess you could… ask him to be in one of your videos? That seems like the kind of thing he’d be into. And then use filming the video as an excuse to be touchy-feely and cute.”

Harry gaped, wide-eyed. Then, he jumped onto the bed with Hermione and hugged her with all his might.

“I love you,” he sobbed.

“I know.”

\---

Harry had been waiting twenty minutes to set his plan in motion. Finally, as he could see Sirius exiting the bio classroom, he gathered his bearings. Just as Sirius was about to turn the corner, Harry bumped into him, spilling his coffee all over Sirius’s shirt.

Ah, yes, the Spilled Drink Method™. Works every time.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” Harry cried out, quickly using his own sleeve to attempt to wipe down Sirius’s chest. “Are you okay?”

Sirius chuckled lowly, which did distracting things to Harry’s sanity, and held Harry’s wrist. “I’m fine, yeah? It’s just a shirt.”

“Still, I feel bad,” Harry frowned. “Oh! My dorm room is nearby, why don’t you come with me to my room and I’ll lend you a shirt?”

Sirius Black, who was also on the Gryffindor floor of the dorms, could simply just go to his own room to change. From what Harry had seen of the boy, however, critical thought did not appear to be his strong suit, and he desperately wished he wouldn’t notice.

Sirius gave him lascivious smirk. “Sure kid, take me away.”

Harry was only one year younger than the boy, but if getting called ‘kid’ was what got Sirius Black into his bedroom, he certainly didn’t mind.

\---

“So,” Harry began, once Sirius had put on one of his oversized sweatshirts (they were the only clothes Harry had that fit the taller boy). “I saw that you commented on my vlog.”

“Oh yeah, the one where you dove into the Great Lake looking for the Giant Squid? My mates and I did the same thing back in first year, good times. Moony got pinched by a crab.”

“Yes, yes. Well, I’m glad you liked it. I was actually wondering if you wanted to—”

“What I liked best, of course,” Sirius interrupted, leaning towards Harry, “was getting to see you shirtless.”

Um.

“Um.”

Harry froze. This wasn’t exactly in the plan. Harry considered himself quite good at being suave, but as the response he usually got to his saucy lines was laughter, he didn’t actually know what to do when someone else instigated the flirting.

“Right. Well, um, right. Right. Yes—that’s, good. Quite good.”

Eloquent.

Sirius, being not only sexy but also a saint, didn’t seem to mind. He gave him an indulgent smile and brought his hand up to his cheek, brushing his hair back behind his cheek.

“You’re cute,” he whispered in Harry’s ear.

Ah well, Harry certainly didn’t think it was possible to die of self-combustion, but here Sirius Black was proving him wrong.

“Yes. Well, you’re—you’re, um, not quite so bad yourself, I suppose.”

Harry attempted to sound aloof, but with Sirius’s presence drawing out all the air from his lungs, he sounded a bit more desperate than he would have liked.

The smirk that Sirius gave him was definitely possible of manslaughter, Harry thought.

The taller boy nuzzled his forehead with his own, kissed his nose, and then got up.

“Well, I’m off then. Thanks for the sweatshirt,” Sirius winked. “I’ll be seeing you around.”

And thus Harry was left alone, wide-eyed and blushing, and quite possible going insane.

\---

From then on, Sirius seemed to jump at the opportunity to embarrass Harry any chance he got. He would ruffle his hair as he passed by him in the dining hall and would blow in his ears as he snuck up on him from behind in the common room. As Sirius was a year above, they didn’t have any classes together, which Harry supposed was a small blessing because his fragile maiden heart could only take so much.

Harry introduced him to Hermione, who was pleasantly surprised that Sirius was an avid reader of Dostoyevsky and promptly encouraged Harry to marry him. Sirius, in turn, introduced him to his group of friends.

This is, of course, where it all went wrong.

The Marauders, Harry acknowledged, were quite great. They were fun, quirky, laid-back—everything you could want in a friend group. What was _not_ quite great was one certain James Potter.

One certain James Potter that happened to look very similar to one certain Harry Potter.

One certain James Potter that was very, very in love with one certain Lily Evans.

One certain James Potter that one certain Sirius Black stared at when he thought no one was looking—that looked heartbroken whenever said James Potter and Lily Evans were together.

Oh.

Well.

It’s like that, then.

\---

Harry didn’t quite know what to feel. He found it was easier, in fact, to try not to feel anything at all. It wasn’t that he was _in love_ with Sirius or anything, or even that they had made any serious commitments to each other. It’s just that no-one quite liked finding out they were only being flirted with as a replacement for someone’s straight best friend.

Hermione noticed first, of course, that Harry’s smile seemed more strained, that it didn’t quite seem to reach his eyes. Even Draco noticed eventually, pulling him aside one day to ask if anything was wrong. Harry said he was fine, of course. No one believed him, but Harry gave them such a pleading look to drop it that they couldn’t help but reluctantly nod.

Sirius Black didn’t notice.

It made Harry wonder if he ever really saw him as anything beyond a mirror image of his best friend at all.

\---

It was when Sirius started hanging out in his dorm room more often, when he started hugging Harry like he never wanted to let go, that he couldn’t take it anymore.

Forcibly pushing Sirius away, Harry came face to face with a look of hurt that squeezed Harry’s heart.

“Look, Sirius…” Harry said reluctantly.

“Padfoot. You can call me Padfoot, you know that.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Harry mumbled. “Might as well have you call me Prongs while I’m at it.”

“…Sorry? I didn’t quite get that.”

Harry bit his lip. He sat down on his bed and patted the space beside him. When Harry looked up at the boy who gently sat down next to him, when he saw Sirius’s warm smile and concerned eyes and felt his heart flutter at the sight of him, he wondered if it wouldn’t be okay to pretend. To play along with Sirius and maybe eventually have him fall in love with Harry instead of James.

“Harry?” Sirius said when he was quiet for a bit too long. “What’s up? Is something wrong?”

Harry sighed and gave Sirius a rueful smile. Harry swore to himself when he came to Hogwarts that he wouldn’t pretend to be anyone else ever again—that no matter what anyone else said, Harry would never be afraid to be Harry.

Well, if he had to break the news to Sirius, he may as well be blunt about it.

“Look, Pads. I know you’re in love with James,” he saw Sirius open his mouth in protest but quickly cut him off. “No, shh, look, you don’t have to argue. I’m not blind. I can hear the tiny violin playing whenever you mope over him and Lily going off on their midnight rendezvous.”

Harry tried to give Sirius a supportive smile, but it came off as more of a grimace.

“I don’t mind. Well, no, I _do_ mind, but not the fact that you’re in love with Prongs. I mind that you’re using me as a replacement.”

“I’m not—”

“Right, Sirius, do me a favor? Don’t treat me like an idiot.”

Sirius chewed on his lip and frowned. After a second, his shoulders slumped.

“…Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. God, Harry, you’re right. I’m in love with him.”

Harry wanted to cry, just a bit, but he urged Sirius to continue anyways.

“I—God, I’ve been in love with him since we were kids, you know? And I always somehow thought that we’d end up together but then he met Lily and I just—I knew he wouldn’t feel the same way about me. And then I saw your video and all I could think about was how much you looked like James. And you had that cute little rainbow pin in your hair and I thought maybe I’d actually have a chance.”

Harry didn’t quite know what to say.

“I’m sorry. God, Harry, I really am sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea in the first place. You can punch me if you want; I deserve it.”

Sirius looked so devasted, so self-deprecating, that Harry couldn’t help but do the only thing he thought would help in this situation.

He gave Sirius a hug.

Sirius immediately wrapped his arms around Harry and sobbed into his shoulder. Patting his back and being squeezed to the point of barely being able to breathe, Harry wondered if it was a superpower of his to solve all conflicts with his cuddles.

\---

Harry gave Sirius a kiss on the nose, ruffled his hair, and sent him back to his room with the promise that they would still be friends.

The heartache was still there, but it was a bit pleasant. He felt sated and bittersweet in a way that he thought quite suited the idea of the Sirius Black Experience.

Love, Harry thought, was a lot more complicated than WikiHow made it out to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> marketing idea: harry hugs™


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huge thanks to everyone who left loving comments on the previous chapters <3 <3  
> i am particularly grateful to those of you who asked about updates because you convinced my lazy ass to actually write another chapter  
> please enjoy chapter four of thirsty and gay harry

Harry was absolutely terrible at French. He signed up for it thinking it would be a powerful asset to add to his seduction arsenal; he would walk up to cute boys and whisper French nothings into their ears. This master plan was greatly flawed, however, in that Harry apparently underestimated how difficult it would be to learn.

He thought that he was already ahead of the game, knowing fancy French words like ‘bonsoir’ and ‘merci beaucoup.’ Little did he know that _conjugation_ would actually be a thing.

Harry shivered.

At first Harry considered asking Sirius for help. His family was apparently part-French, and it wasn’t as if they were on bad terms after their ‘break up.’ He still hung out with the Marauders regularly and the only time it was awkward was when Sirius shot him these guilty, pitying glances.

Harry told him to get over his ‘crusty ass hoe’ self and to stop moping about it, considering Harry was doing fine and dandy even without his fine locks to cuddle with.

Then again, Sirius’s guilt had its uses—particularly in how Harry managed to convince him to complete his homework from time to time. Given that he was currently forcing Sirius to do the research for his essay in McGonagall’s class, he decided to spare him and not ask him for French help as well.

Luckily, the language branch had a convenient tutoring system in which the older students taking higher levels of the class could help the younger ones who were struggling. Harry was most certainly struggling.

Signing up for the tutoring, Harry crossed his fingers and hoped for the best.

\---

Like most things in Harry’s life, this ended in disaster.

Harry didn’t know whether to consider his luck incredibly generous or incredibly disastrous when his tutor ended up being a literal angel. Not in terms of personality, of course. He was more like Satan in that regard. But looks wise--- he took Harry’s breath away. Fallen angel indeed.

Tom Riddle, two years his senior, was the most attractive person Harry ever met. Yes, even more so than Sirius or Draco. While Sirius had a sort of rugged charm and Draco had an elegant sort of beauty, Tom Riddle could only be described as _perfection_. He had this luscious black hair that slightly wisped up at the front. And those cheekbones…

Mm…

Harry promptly slapped himself in the face with both hands, snapping himself out of it.

This was, of course, where the issue stemmed from. It was entirely impossible to focus when Tom was tutoring him when he could be staring at his lips instead. Those lips…

Mm…

Harry banged his head against the table.

Hermione suspected that he had finally gone insane. She was not surprised.

\---

The first time Harry met Tom was when the teacher introduced his new tutor. Upon seeing him, Harry choked on his spit and his entire English vocabulary flew out the window. Which was brilliant, really, considering it probably led Tom to believe that Harry was not only hopeless in French, but in his native language as well.

After pulling himself together and managing a shaky introduction, Harry prepared himself to completely embarrass himself in front of the boy by demonstrating his failure in French.

The tutoring sessions took place in Tom’s room. Tom’s personal, private room, of course, because as a prefect he apparently got his own bedroom. Which meant that Harry would be all alone with the boy of his dreams in his bedroom.

Brilliant.

Tom Riddle, upon first glance, was extremely polite. Even throughout Harry’s stumbled introduction, he smiled gently and gave him comforting glances. Harry’s heart fluttered at the boy’s kindness.

After Tom asked Harry how much French he currently knew and was met with a stuttered ‘b-bonsoir,’ however, everything went downhill.

Harry still sees Tom’s judgmental eyebrow raise in his nightmares.

\---

It took a couple of weeks for Tom to break. They had tutoring sessions three times a week, forty-five minutes each. For the first few sessions, Tom was still the epitome of gentle and patient—the perfect honor student.

After two weeks passed, however, and Harry’s French level was still abysmally low, Tom snapped.

Harry remembered the way Tom’s demeanor changed from kind to murderous in the span of less than a second. His eyes became so cold, Harry could almost feel frostbite.

From then on, in the privacy of Tom’s room where there were no witnesses, Tom became Satan himself.

\---

Harry was flattered, in a way. Tom Riddle still acted as the kind and gentle prefect around school. Even Hermione seemed to be smitten with him.

The fact that he showed Harry a side of himself he usually hid, even if that side most likely wanted to stab him, was kind of nice. Harry wondered if he was just a masochist.

He decided to save that line of thought for another day.

\---

12:52

<3 <3 <3 omg tom I got a 90 on my French quiz!!! :DD

1:10

_Only a 90? Well, you know what that means… Ten pages of work on French conjugation, due by our next session._

1:11

tom!!! cmon don’t be like that! you had me do twenty just last week!!

1:30

_Well, if you didn’t get an 80, you wouldn’t have had to. You know the rules._

1:31

tommmm D:

1:50

please??

2:15

D: D: D: D:

3:14

_I’ll be waiting._

\---

Harry, feeling tired and rebellious, decided to skimp on the work. When he showed up to his next session with no pages, however, he was met with such a look of disdain that he practically melted to the ground. He was then faced with Tom’s silent treatment for the rest of the session. In fact, he was faced with Tom’s silence for the next two sessions, sometimes accompanied by a raised eyebrow, until Harry finally gave in and wrote the pages.

He might have also gotten on his knees and begged for forgiveness.

Tom smiled, and Harry got goosebumps.

\---

All in all, Harry had to admit it was a successful system. Given that facing Tom’s wrath was the consequence for getting bad grades, French eventually rose to his second highest class—first being biology. This led to another problem, however.

Mainly, the fact that he didn’t really need tutoring anymore.

By this point, Harry had simply accepted the fact that he was most likely a masochist and was smitten with Tom even though he was a slave driver. The thought of losing their triweekly sessions was too much to bear, especially given that Tom was not only in a different grade, but also in a different dorm house (Slytherin, obviously), so their contact would become non-existent.

As such, Harry’s brilliant idea was to lie about his test scores to Tom. Having to complete fifteen pages of French work every once in a while was a small price to pay in order to keep hearing Tom’s velvety voice insult him. Tom particularly enjoyed cursing him out in French, which was… strangely arousing.

Harry once again stored that information in the part of his brain labelled Things to Analyze at a Later Date.

\----

Harry, although not a particularly good actor, thought that he was doing a pretty good job of convincing Tom he still sucked at French. It wasn’t particularly hard to do, considering the part about getting distracted by Tom’s hands every five minutes during their sessions wasn’t exactly an act.

Tom, however, was sharper than Harry thought.

“You know, Harry, I was having a talk with our French teacher the other day about your progress,” Tom murmured in his deceptively lovely voice.

“Mmh?” Harry got out, which was surprisingly literate considering his brain was melting at hearing Tom say his name.

“Yes. I was about to complain to her, actually, given that you have had a considerable lack of progress despite our numerous sessions. Imagine my surprise, however, when before I could even say a word, the teacher promptly gave me a hug and called me a miracle worker.”

“Oh,” Harry said, suspicions hackling at where this conversation was going. He also had the slightly insane thought that the teacher’s hugs were likely highly inadequate compared to Harry Hugs.

“’Oh’, indeed. Did you know, Harry, that you have not been getting 80s in class at all? In fact, you have been consistently getting scores of 95 and above.”

“Wow. Well, that’s, uh, news to me,” Harry said, shifting his eyes around. His eyes firmly landed on a particularly interesting spot on the wall.

When he was met with silence, Harry eventually tore his gaze back to Tom’s eyes. Or, more specifically, to Tom’s judgmental eyebrow.

“I might,” Harry cleared his throat before continuing. “I might have been aware of this, yes.”

“And why, pray tell, did you not tell me?”

“I, ah—thought you might end our tutoring sessions if you knew I was doing well.”

“I most likely would have,” Tom narrowed his eyes. “I had assumed that you would want to end them as soon as possible, given that you constantly complain about my ‘spartan’ teaching methods.”

Harry shrugged and there was a moment of silence before Tom widened his eyes in understanding.

“Are you perhaps a masochist?”

Harry flinched. “I’d rather not talk about it, actually.”

Tom’s resulting delighted grin was entirely sadistic.

“I’m afraid to say you’re a bit young for my tastes, Harry,” he cooed. 

“Alright there, boomer, calm down. You’re a whole two years older than me, Tom, it’s not that much,” he got out grumpily while blushing.

To be fair, Harry supposed, Tom often acted like he was seventy years old rather than seventeen. He vaguely recalled Tom complaining about ‘kids these days’ when discussing the first-year students.

Tom hummed in consideration.

“Perhaps,” he said smugly.

God, Harry could just tell he was feeding his enormous god complex. He was internally rebuking himself for stroking Tom’s huge ego; he probably thought the whole world was in love with him.

And he would probably be right.

“Right, well, now that we’ve gotten all that sorted out, maybe we should get back to tutoring?” Harry said diplomatically, firmly shoving his embarrassment inside the Things We Do Not Talk About section of his mind.

“Unfortunately, Harry, I find little reason to continue our sessions given that you are already excelling in class,” Tom said, still smiling.

Harry deflated.

“Yes, that—that makes sense. I suppose I’ll just be going then,” Harry frowned, attempting to gather both his things and the remains of his dignity.

He was just about to leave Tom’s room in a rush when he was stopped by the other boy calling his name.

“Yeah?”

“Perhaps it would be unwise to end your sessions completely. We wouldn’t want you slacking, after all.”

Harry’s stomach fluttered.

“Once a week, perhaps?” Tom suggested, eyes narrowed with amusement.

“Y-yeah. Sounds good,” Harry managed to say with a trembling smile. Internally, he was fist-bumping himself quite vigorously.

“Perfect. And Harry?”

“Hm?”

“Five pages by the next session, please.”

Harry sighed.

“Yes, sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't believe i actually had harry say 'ok boomer' in this chapter  
> please excuse me while i eliminate myself from existence


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3

“Potter!”

Harry looked back and promptly saw Draco running towards him. Shoving the rest of his books in his locker, Harry turned to him with a raised eyebrow (courtesy of Tom Riddle).

“Draco, I’ve cradled you in my bosom while you sobbed your eyes out; I think you can call me Harry by now.”

Draco blushed and scowled. “Christ, were you always this sassy?”

“I’m a changed man, Draco. I’ve felt the turmoil of love and heartbreak. I’ve felt my heart fracture and stitched it up with my very own hands. I have taken control of my own destiny.”

“Jesus.”

“Some may call me that, yes. I prefer Harry.”

Draco sighed.

“Listen, Harry. I need your help.”

Harry grinned. “Anything for you, princess.”

“Right, okay, never-mind. I’m leaving.”

“Aww, Draco, come on. I’m joking. What do you need help with?”

Harry gave Draco one of his heart-melting smiles until his scowl gradually faded.

“Yes, well, the truth is, I was thinking of coming out to my father.”

“Oh, that’s great, Draco! I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you. Anyways, the point of the matter is—I’d like you to come with me.”

Harry tilted his head. “Like, for emotional support?”

“No, like—like a date. I want to introduce you as my boyfriend.”

Harry stared, gaping.

“A fake boyfriend, obviously! Get that look off your face, Harry. I mean like—for pretend. So my dad doesn’t think I’m lying or whatever.”

Harry, who in the course of his life had read plenty of fanfics, knew exactly what Draco was saying and needed no further explanation.

“Sure, Draco, I get it. When do you wanna do it?”

“This weekend, preferably. Saturday, maybe?”

Harry had a tutoring session with Tom that day, but he supposed ditching it wouldn’t be so bad. Tom deserved to get ego-check anyways.

“Sounds good,” Harry beamed.

\---

When Saturday came, Draco was so riddled with nerves he practically called the whole thing off.

“What if he—what if he, like, disowns me or something?”

“Oh man, that would suck.”

“Harry! You’re supposed to be comforting!”

“Oh, right. Well, I mean, you could just call child protective services or something if things get out of hand.”

“Child protective services…? Is that what you did?”

“What? What do I have to do with this?

“Aren’t your guardians… like… abusive? Or something?”

“Oh, yeah…”

Draco raised an eyebrow, frowning.

“Yeah? You didn’t call anyone about it?”

“No, well, I mean… I didn’t really think I deserved it?”

“What?”

Harry cleared his throat.

“Anyways! This isn’t about me. This is about you, Draco! Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess…”

“Great! Let’s go!”

Harry grabbed Draco’s hand firmly, beamed, and led him to the Malfoy Manor. When they reached the house, Harry whistled loudly.

“Christ, you’re so rich, Draco. If you don’t get disowned, maybe you could be, like, my sugar daddy or something.”

“Excuse me?!” Draco flushed.

“Ha, I’m kidding, Draco. Kid _ding._ ”

“Right…” Draco gulped. “Well, let’s go in.”

Draco knocked and gripped Harry’s hand so hard he had to hide a grimace. Draco looked relieved when his mother came out to greet him.

“Draco! It’s so nice to see you. Is this your boyfriend?” she said warmly, glancing over at Harry.

Draco gaped.

“Um, yes, this is—Harry. From school.”

“Oh, how wonderful! Come in for a cup of tea, yes?”

“Yes! Thank you very much, ma’am,” Harry replied amicably.

“Mom? You aren’t, like, mad?” Draco got out nervously.

“Why would I be mad, honey?”

“Because, well, you know. Harry’s… a boy.”

“Oh, Draco,” his mother gave him an indulgent smile. “I couldn’t care less who you date, as long as you’re happy.”

Draco started to tear up a bit.

“What about… father?”

“Oh, well, your dad is a bit of a, what do the kids call them, a boomer? He’s a bit slow on the uptake, but I’ll make sure to turn him around. Just take anything he says with a grain of salt.”

“Draco, your mom just called your dad a boomer,” Harry said, pleasantly surprised.

Draco said nothing, but Harry could see the happiness in his eyes.

\---

Tea was a very pleasant affair. Draco’s father seemed a bit shocked at finding out his son was gay, but after being properly chastised by Harry for his poor behavior and offensive language, he seemed to appear properly regretful and promised Draco he would love him no matter what.

Draco, of course, cried all the way home.

“You know, I don’t think you really needed me at all, Draco. It all went very well.”

“Nonsense. If you weren’t there to rant at my father, I probably would have broken down and cried.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing right now…?”

“Do shut up, Harry.”

“Yes, sir.”

\---

Before they arrived back at school, Harry convinced Draco to stop by the nearby coffee shop with him.

“I just think, yeah, if I’m going to be your boyfriend for the day, we might as well make a proper date of it.”

Draco seemed dubious, but agreed nonetheless. Because he was secretly in love with Harry, obviously. Harry, keeping this knowledge to himself so as to not embarrass Draco, led him to the local café. He promptly ordered an Americano. Because Harry was Cool™ and Seductive™ and drank his coffee black. Draco, on the other hand, ordered a vanilla latte.

“You’re very cute, Draco, you know that?”

Draco scowled and didn’t reply.

When they sat down, Draco seemed to be hesitant about something, so Harry kicked him under the table until he got it out.

“I just… did I ever apologize to you, Harry? For the things I said when we first met?” Draco whispered remorsefully.

Harry couldn’t remember. The last Drarry chapter happened like a month ago, really.

“You know, I don’t think you did, Draco. You don’t have to, though, I know it was just—internalized homophobia and whatnot. Very tricky stuff.”

“Yes, well, I think it’s only proper if I say it now. I am sorry, Harry, truly. You didn’t deserve that.”

Draco looked so honest, so hopeful and helpless all at once, that Harry couldn’t stop himself from giving him a little kiss on his lips. Just a peck.

He tasted like vanilla latte.

Harry beamed, Draco flushed a beautiful shade of red, and even the bitter taste of Americano couldn’t wipe away the taste of Draco’s soft lips.

\---

They weren’t dating, but Harry felt romantic, so he changed Draco’s contact name to ‘Draco <3.’

Unbeknownst to him, Draco changed Harry’s to ‘Twat <3.’

They weren’t dating, but maybe they were just a tiny bit in love with each other anyways.


	6. Chapter 6

“Bam!” Harry spun around, kicking his leg out.

“BAM!” Harry yelled, dropping to the floor and whipping his short hair around as diva-like as possible.

Silence ensued.

“Harry, what the literal fuck are you doing?” James exclaimed, something all the Marauders were currently wondering. The boys and Lily were sitting around in Remus’s dorm room when Harry burst through the door, wearing yoga pants and a headband (rainbow-colored, of course), and started twirling around haphazardly.

“I,” Harry proclaimed grandly, “am joining the dance troupe.”

“…We have a dance troupe?” Peter squeaked out meekly, slightly intimidated by Harry’s Gay Aura™.

“Well, no, because Dumbledore is a geezer,” Harry huffed. “But there’s one visiting from out of town! It’s one of those, y’know, traveling ones.”

“A traveling dance troupe… Like a circus?” Remus asked.

“Yes! Just like that.”

“You’re joining the circus?” Sirius barked out, laughing.

“Yes! I mean—no! Not the circus, the dance troupe! Don’t be so daft, Siri.”

Sirius only laughed louder while Lily tried to calm him down. “I didn’t know you could dance, Harry!” she remarked.

“Well, I don’t, really, but anything is possible with yoga pants, yeah?”

Lily seemed to be at a loss for words, although her smile was seemingly encouraging.

“Padfoot can dance!” Peter grinned cheekily, while Sirius groaned.

“We don’t talk about that, Wormy.”

Harry’s eyes lit up. He quickly knocked Sirius down, who was currently sitting on the bed, and straddled his lap. “You can dance, Siri?!” he said excitedly.

“Yes, but I—”

“Perfect! You can teach me!” Harry announced, smiling smugly when he noticed Sirius’s slight blush. Was he embarrassed by knowing how to dance, or by him sitting in his lap, Harry wondered? Definitely the latter, Harry knew just how good his ass looked in those tights. He squirmed around a bit while Sirius just coughed, flushing.

“No, like I was trying to say—it’s been years. I hardly remember. Plus, it’s not exactly something you can learn in a couple of days,” he protested, voice hoarse.

“A dancer never truly forgets his moves,” Harry said wisely, closing his eyes and nodding. “We can start training… tomorrow! After school.”

Harry could see Sirius was about to refuse, so he quickly got out his puppy eyes and pout. No one could resist the puppy eyes and pout.

“I—” Sirius swallowed, looking away. “Yeah, okay,” he sighed, resigned.

“Yesss, I love you, Siri!” Harry wrapped his arms around Sirius’s neck, hugging him tightly. Sirius slowly brought his hands up to Harry’s back and hesitated for a second before dragging his fingers soothingly over Harry’s spine. Harry smiled softly before jumping out of Sirius’s grasp and running to the door and winking.

“Well, I’ll be off! I just wanted to give you guys a sneak peek of my moves before I join the troupe!”

“You mean the circus?” James snickered.

Harry gave a pirouette and slammed the door shut.

\---

“In the first place, there’s nothing wrong with the circus, it’s a very respectable—ow, ow, OW! Sirius, it hurts! It hurts!” Harry whined as his back was pushed towards the ground.

“Well, you have to stretch, Harry. That’s Dance 101.”

“Yeah? Well, Dance 101 is stupid. I’m skipping to Dance 501,” Harry grumbled. Sirius just pushed his back further until Harry begged for mercy.

“Stop! Stop! Christ, Siri, I didn’t peg you for the sadistic type.”

“No?” Sirius asked, eyebrow raising.

“No. More of a… gentle dom daddy.”

Silence.

“I’m going home,” Sirius said, quickly walking towards the exit.

“Stop, Siri, I was kidding! I’m sorry!”

“I never want to hear the word ‘daddy’ coming out of your mouth ever again, Harry.”

“Not unless we’re in bed, you mean?” he asked cheekily.

Sirius kicked the back of Harry’s knees lightly and knocked him to the ground.

“Ow! Violence is never the answer, Siri!”

Sirius sighed exasperatedly, although Harry could see his cheeks were red. “Why do you even want to join the traveling dance troupe, Harry?”

“Oh, I was waiting for you to ask!” Harry said excitedly, rushing over to his messenger bag and taking out a slightly wrinkled piece of paper, advertising the dance troupe’s upcoming performance. Harry shoved the paper in Sirius’s face, eyes sparkling.

“Right… What am I looking at here, exactly?”

“Here, look!” Harry pointed to a man on the poster, in the middle of some acrobatic move.

“Yes…?”

“He’s handsome, Siri!”

“Oh my—Harry, are you serious?”

“No, I’m Harry. You’re Sirius.”

“I’m disowning you.”

“Oh? I thought you weren’t my daddy?”

Sirius couldn’t breathe for a few seconds, slightly losing sanity and forgetting basic motor functions.

“Come on,” Harry insisted. “Isn’t it romantic? Being whisked away to the traveling dance troupe by a handsome man… It’s like Phantom of the Opera!”

“That is nothing like Phantom of the Opera, Harry.”

“It’s—the same vibes. Essentially.”

Sirius stared at Harry incredulously for a moment before breaking out in laughter, grinning wildly.

“I give up, Harry. You’re incredible, you know that?” he got out in between laughs, wiping a tear from his eyes.

“Well, yes, I am aware. Did you know you’re very handsome when you laugh, Siri?”

“Thank you,” Sirius cooed, ruffling his hair messily while Harry batted his hands away.

“Let’s get started, yeah? The auditions are in two days,” Harry pouted.

“Two days?! Harry, I can’t believe you’re seriously about to audition with absolutely no dance experience.”

“I’m not doing it seriously, I’m doing it hairily. Get it? Sirius-ly? Harry-ly?” he grinned.

“Harry…”

“I didn’t choose the comedian life, it chose me,” Harry nodded. “Did you know I called Draco Ellen DeGeneres once? It’s up there in my Top 5 Roasts.”

“You know, in the first place, you’re not doing it hairily either. You’re one of the most unhairy men I know,” Sirius pointed out, glancing at his exposed legs. Harry wore his cute booty shorts for the occasion.

“I shaved just for you, _daddy_ ,” Harry purred, taking Sirius’s hands and bringing them down to his thighs. “I know you like me smooth.”

Sirius started choking on air, face burning.

“Where do you pick this stuff up, Harry?!”

“You don’t want to see my search history, Sirius, it would scar even the bravest of warriors,” Harry said solemnly, shaking his head.

“Let’s—let’s get started on dancing. I mean, there’s not much we can do in a couple of days, but you can get the foundations down, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Harry grinned, excited. “What’s first? Actually, I never asked, what kind of dance do you know?”

“Ah—I know, ballet,” Sirius mumbled out, slightly embarrassed.

“Ballet! Wow, Siri, that’s incredible!”

“I guess,” Sirius shrugged. “I just took it a bit as a kid because my mom made me. I’m not into it anymore, Harry! I’m very punk now. I’m rock and roll,” he asserted.

Harry took a moment to imagine Sirius in tight ballet pants and discreetly wiped away his drool.

“So, does that mean you’re very… flexible?” Harry asked, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

“Not as flexible as you’re going to be after I twist you into a fucking pretzel. Did you drink Viagra for breakfast or something, Harry?”

“You know I only have chocolate milk in the mornings,” Harry scoffed. “Why would I need Viagra, anyways, when I have your sweet bod to look at?”

“Oh, what happened to my sweet, innocent, and pure Harry?” Sirius lamented, twirling Harry around. “I always thought _I_ would be the naughty one in this relationship, but oh, how wrong I was.”

Harry stuck his tongue out and let himself be spun around by Sirius. They danced like that for a while—Sirius teaching him basic rhythm and tempo as they went. Harry felt warm, being held in Sirius’s arms as they moved across the floor. The songs were fast at first, Harry being spun around in circles and thrown back against Sirius’s arm, but eventually they switched to Harry’s ‘Delicate Vibes (sunflower emoji)’ playlist and Harry rested his head against Sirius’s chest as they gently moved to the music. Sirius’s neck was slightly sweaty from their exercise and Harry could feel the warm moisture on the tip of his nose. He found himself blushing as he realized just how tall Sirius was, with Harry’s head resting just under his chin.

“Perhaps we should rest now, hm?” Sirius whispered after the music ended, seemingly just as caught up in the mood as Harry and unwilling to break the gentle quiet of their breathing.

Harry nodded silently and they sat on the floor, backs resting against the wall, eagerly drinking up the water Harry pulled out. Harry was nestled in the nook of Sirius’s arm, both of them reluctant to part. Harry found himself remembering the easy comfort they found in each other’s bodies back when they were ‘dating.’ They had not been in such close contact since Harry confronted Sirius about his feelings, and he forgot just how much he missed being engulfed by the man’s body. Harry nuzzled into Sirius’s torso, deciding to savor the moment while he could.

“Harry, you know—you’re different,” Sirius said quietly.

Harry furrowed his brows. “Sorry?”

“Than James, I mean. I thought you were similar, in the beginning, but you’re not. There’s hardly a resemblance, really, other than the looks and name. No, even the looks are—you’re smaller. James is more rugged, sporty. You’re… softer.”

Harry’s heart clenched painfully, jealousy starting to rise in his throat.

“Yes, I’m well aware I’m not actually the man of your dreams, Siri,” Harry spat out, angrily. “We went over this a couple of months ago, remember? When you broke my heart but somehow ended up crying all over my shirt?”

Sirius flinched. “I’m not—” he started, then stopped, sighing, dragging his hand through his hair in exasperation. “I’m not saying it in a bad way. I’m saying you’re not—I don’t see you as just some mirror image of James. Not anymore. You’re… Harry. Just Harry.”

Harry’s heart pounded slightly. “And that’s… good?”

Sirius’s arm tightened its grip around Harry’s waist. “It’s good,” he affirmed, nodding once, briskly, slightly embarrassed.

“It’s good,” he said again, clearing his throat.

\---

Everyone came to see Harry’s audition, including, much to everyone’s surprise, Tom Riddle. Harry practically leaped with joy upon seeing him and promptly rushed into his chest.

“Tom, you came!” Harry exclaimed.

“Well, I could hardly miss my darling pupil’s big audition, hm?” Tom purred out, ruffling Harry’s hair. Harry leaned into his touch eagerly, giggling. The rest of the cast watched with surprise, not knowing how close Harry was with the other boy. The two chatted for a while, Harry’s blush gradually deepening, before an arm grasped Harry’s shoulder harshly, pulling him back.

“Harry,” Sirius cooed out, eyes narrowed and voice tinted with faux kindness, “you’re going to be late.”

“Oh, you’re right! Thank you, Siri! I’m going now, everyone!” Harry quickly gave everyone a hug and rushed over to the stage, noticing out of the corner of his eye Sirius and Tom exchanging death glares.

‘I’m such a shoujo protagonist,’ Harry thought, before performing his wildly interpretive dance to Shakira’s Hips Don’t Lie. After he was done, Lily clapped loudly with excitement and joy, while everyone else clapped slowly in second-hand embarrassment. Stepping off the stage, he looked up to see Tom coming towards him, mouth poised to speak, before Sirius slid in front of him and took Harry in his arms.

“I’m proud of you, Harry,” he said, much to Harry’s happiness.

“Aww, thank you, Siri!” Harry nuzzled deeper into his embrace.

“Harry—” Tom began, glaring angrily at Sirius as he did so.

“Harry!” Sirius said, grasping Harry’s hand in his own. “How about we celebrate? Get some drinks?”

“Sirius, we’re both underage,” Harry laughed.

“Coffee then, hm? Let’s go!” Sirius decided, dragging Harry away.

“Woah, hey, Sirius!” Harry breathed out, tumbling after him. “At least let me say goodbye to my friends first!”

“You’ll see them back at Hogwarts, yeah?”

“Yeah, I guess, but—woah!” Harry tripped a bit as he was dragged by Sirius to the door. “Bye, everyone! Thanks for coming! Especially you, Tom! I’ll see you Saturday!” he yelled out before being pulled away to the exit. They ended up not being able to find a nearby coffeeshop, instead settling down on the grass near the vending machine outside.

Harry sipped his Sprite quietly, still tired from the dance routine, glancing over at Sirius occasionally.

“Is something wrong, Siri?” he asked, tilting his head. “We got out of there pretty quickly.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Sirius assured hastily. “I just wanted to celebrate with you alone. I was the one that taught you after all.”

Harry hummed noncommittedly, still confused, but filing the actions away as Sirius’s usual strange antics. 

“You liked it, then?” Harry asked shyly.

Sirius nodded. “Loved it. Especially the sound effects you added—‘wham, bam, shazam!’—it was quite the show.”

Harry laughed aloud, recalling how silly he must have looked.

“It was fun,” Harry smiled. “Thanks for teaching me, Siri.”

Sirius looked over at him, took a sip of his Dr. Pepper, and nodded as if deciding something. He leaned over a gave Harry a featherlight kiss on the lips.

“Anytime, Harry,” he breathed out.

Harry blinked once, twice, and then spent the rest of the day internally screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whether Harry's playlist is called 'Delicate Vibes' with a sunflower emoji or 'Delicate Vibes' with (sunflower emoji) typed out is up to interpretation


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg I haven’t updated this in forever. Pls enjoy more shoujo cliches <3

If someone asked Harry why he was currently being slammed against the wall by Tom Riddle, he would not be able to answer because his heart was internally combusting. His face was a _furnace._ He could grill panini bread on his cheeks.

“So,” Tom said coolly, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. “Sirius Black, hm?”

“Um, yeah?” Harry squeaked. “What about him?”

“He seemed very… fond of you. You aren’t dating, are you?”

“Not… exactly?”

Tom’s eyes flashed red. “Not exactly?”

“We used to have a… thing? And then after the dance troupe event he kind of…” Harry trailed off, blushing.

“Kind of _what_?” Tom hissed.

“Kissed me?” Harry backtracked immediately after Tom started snarling. “Just a little one! A peck. It wasn’t a—a _mwahhhh_ or anything like that. More like a quick _mwah_ and then done.”

Tom got closer to Harry, who was forced to back up even more to the wall. He could feel Tom’s breath on his neck. “And you let him?”

“Well, I mean—it’s not like I was _against_ it or anything.”

“Even though you have a crush on _me?”_ Tom growled.

Harry stared dumbstruck for a few seconds. “Tom, are you… jealous?”

Tom’s cheeks lightly flushed. “I’m not. I’m just questioning the purity of your intentions towards me.”

 _‘Oh, you know my intentions towards you are anything but pure,’_ Harry thought.

“You are!” he said instead. “You’re totally jealous!”

Tom’s face reddened further, visible despite his prominent scowl. Who could grill panini bread now, huh?

“Shut up,” he muttered while finally backing away from Harry. He sat down on the bed while Harry tried to get his thoughts in order.

“You’re so cute,” Harry said incredulously.

“I am going to _stab_ you—”

“What if we go on a date?” Harry interrupted.

“ _What?_ ”

“The two of us. On a date. We could go… I don’t know, to an amusement park?”

Tom hummed. “An amusement park, huh… I’ve never been.”

Harry gasped. “Me neither! Look, it’s perfect!”

“Aren’t they expensive? Just because I look posh doesn’t mean I _am,_ Harry.”

“I have coupons! The dance troupe people gave them to me out of pity. I was going to invite Draco, but—”

“You are _not_ inviting Draco,” Tom protested. “I’ll go with you.”

“Great!” Harry beamed. “I can’t wait!”

\--

Nobody could blame Harry for spending hours trying to pick out an outfit, only to call Hermione in the middle of the night and have her sneak into his dorm room to help him. He was lucky his roommate was a heavy sleeper.

It was all worth it, however, when Tom immediately blushed upon seeing Harry in the tightest skinny jeans he owned paired with a loose crop top that hung off his shoulders. And his signature rainbow heart hair pin, of course.

“You look nice, Tom!” Harry said once Tom simply stared at him and seemed to be at a loss for words.

And he _did_ look nice. He was wearing a nicely fit dark green sweater with black dress pants that _screamed_ dark academia. What a fucking e-boy.

“You too,” he coughed out, slightly blushing.

Who was this? Where was the boy who sadistically bullied Harry into being good at French? Is a crop top all it takes to seduce the devil?

Harry smiled smugly and grabbed Tom’s hand, dragging him to the entrance. Tom gripped his hand firmly and bit his lip, allowing Harry to eventually bring him up to the first ride.

“Will it be scary, do you think? I heard it goes upside down,” Harry whispered excitedly.

“It might be scary for you,” Tom harrumphed. “I won’t be phased by something as silly as a children’s ride.”

Harry simply hummed and the two of them buckled themselves into the coasters.

Once it picked up, Harry screamed with joy and excitement only to look over in the middle of it to see Tom deathly white and looking like his soul was about to slip away from his body.

“Tom!” Harry laughed while yelling against the wind. “Are you okay?”

Tom opened his mouth to reply, only to break off in a scream as the next drop came. Harry practically choked laughing hysterically until the ride came to a stop.

Tom was panting, hair in disarray, hand gripping his chest like a distressed maiden in a horror flick.

Harry was out of breath as well, but for other reasons.

“You,” Harry got out, wheezing and wiping tears from his eyes, “are adorable.”

“There’s no way anyone wouldn’t be scared on this—this—death contraption!” Tom exclaimed angrily as the two of then stumbled out of the ride.

“I thought it was pretty alright,” Harry giggled, still taking pleasure in how ruffled Tom looked.

“ _I thought it was pretty alright,”_ Tom repeated in a high-pitched mocking voice. “Do you know what you are, Harry? You’re a thot.”

“A thot!” Harry exclaimed. “Tom, how do you even know what that means?”

“I can use the internet too,” Tom hissed out angrily. “I know all about your kind. With your—your Tik Toks and Grindrs.”

Harry started choking. “Tom! Those are two very different apps! I don’t have either!”

“Oh, please,” Tom huffed. “Do you think I don’t notice when you’re on your phone instead of doing the French work I give you? You’re always on that… yellow one.”

“Tom, stop, you’re going to make me cry,” Harry laughed. “That’s just Snapchat! You’re only two years older than me, why do you sound like my uncle trying to use his Kindle?”

“I’m sure your uncle just appreciates the finer things in life, like I do.”

“My uncle is homophobic and abusive, you bumpkin!”

“That's,” Tom hesitated. “That’s unfortunate, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, just—remind me to teach you how social media works when we get back.”

Tom nodded. “If I am to achieve my plan of world domination, being tech savvy is a must.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s nothing, Harry. Let’s go to the next ride.”

\--

They decided to end the day on the Ferris-wheel because Harry insisted it would be romantic. They sat on opposite sides until Harry determinedly stood up and sat right next to Tom, snuggling into his side. Tom coughed and wrapped his arm around Harry’s shoulder. Both of them were flushed red. Panini bread for days.

“So,” Harry started, as the two of then watched the sunset through the window, “how was the date?”

“It was… good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“In a…. ‘I want to go on more dates with you’ way?”

Tom cleared his throat. “Will you hear me out, Harry?”

“I—”

“Good. Since you told me about your uncle, it’s only fair I do the same.”

Harry nodded. “You don’t have to feel obligated to say anything if you don’t want to, thou—”

“I,” Tom began, “am an orphan. A wee young boy lost in the throes of foster care.”

“Aw, Tom, I’m sorry, that must be har—”

“So,” Tom continued, “because of this, I’ve always felt like—like my life’s foundations were on shaky ground. Like everything I’ve worked hard to achieve could be taken away from me at a moment’s notice.”

Harry listened silently, humming in understanding, giving up on adding additional commentary.

“And I like you, Harry. As much as it pains me to say it, you are… adorable,” Tom hissed out the last word like it pained him to say it. “I thought you were a complete idiot at first. And I still do—”

“Hey!”

“But now I see it in an endearing way,” Tom finished calmly. “The fact of the matter still stands, however, that I feel… uncomfortable forming strong relations when I don’t know what my future holds.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, trying to figure out what Tom was trying to tell him.

“I can’t date you now, as much as I want to. And I won’t ask you to wait for me,” Tom said firmly. “ _But_ , if, when the time comes that I feel secure in where I am, you and I are still in contact and still feel… _amorous_ towards each other, I will proudly ask if you would allow me to have you.”

Harry teared up slightly. “Oh, Tom, that means the world.”

Tom huffed. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t share stories of your conquests in front of me, however. I am a jealous man by nature.”

Harry grinned. “I’ll try my best.”

Tom looked at Harry, then, sanctimonious façade melting and being replaced with a hesitant warmth and adoration. “Do you think I could… kiss you? Just for today?”

Harry laughed outright. “You must be insane if you think I’d say no—”

Tom stopped his words by gently covering his lips with his own, kissing him softly.

Harry swooned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. when did Harry Hugs™ get replaced with Harry Smooches™  
> 2\. why did I have Harry say bumpkin in this chapter


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise! i'm alive!

Harry stared at the cup of coffee in his hands and thought, “This is it.”

This was the birth of his coffee shop romance.

\---

It started with Tom being a jerk and asking Harry to buy him some coffee. Like, excuse him? He’s going to confess to Harry one day on a ferris wheel like the cliché he is, and then he’s going to make him get him coffee? If this was Tom’s idea of romance, he sucked at it.

But it was all worth it because as soon as Harry walked into that coffee shop, he was blinded by the glory of Beautiful Barista™. Delicate brown locks, rosy lips widening into a heart-melting smile to welcome Harry in… Harry managed to catch the name tag on the barista’s chest before collapsing to the ground with a hand to his chest.

Cedric. _God_ , even his _name_ was sexy.

The barista—Cedric—widened his eyes in surprise when Harry fell to the ground and quickly sprinted over to him to see what was wrong.

“Are you okay?” he asked, eyebrows creased in a beautiful little worried furrow.

Harry groaned and shielded his eyes. “Stop,” he moaned out.

“Stop? Stop what? What’s wrong?”

“Stop being so—attractive,” Harry sighed. “It’s bad for my heart. I have very delicate sensibilities.”

Cedric’s brows rose and his mouth gaped, seemingly about to say something but unable to get any words out.

“Um, thanks?” he finally managed to say, cheeks flushing slightly.

Christ, he was _blushing_.

Tom could get his coffee another damn day. Rather, Tom who? Harry didn’t know a Tom. There was only Cedric and his pretty hair and pretty face and pretty everything.

Harry rose, finally, and brushed the dust off his pants. “I’d like a mocha, please.”

Cedric nodded hesitantly, still looking a bit worried, and made him a mocha.

It was delicious.

\--

So that’s where Harry was now, visiting the coffee shop for the fourth day in a row. Cedric, conveniently enough, seemed to work the 4-8 shift every day, allowing Harry to see him after school. Cedric smiled whenever Harry came in, not even asking for his name when making his coffee because he remembered it after the first time. Sometimes they even made small talk. _Small talk._ In Harry’s opinion, Operation Coffee Shop Romance was already off to a great start.

The shop was relatively empty; for some reason it was never too busy around the time Harry came in. No, that’s not right, Harry knew the reason why... Fate. The gods were blessing Harry so he could have beautiful alone time with Cedric.

Speaking of beautiful alone time, Cedric was making his way over to Harry’s table after the only other customer had left. He sat down in the chair across from him and grinned.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Cedric said with a sly sort of smile.

“Oh, well, you know. I had to get my daily caffeine fix and this place just so happened to be in the area.”

“Mhmm. That tutor of yours still overworking you?”

“Ugh, yes. I forget to get him coffee one time and suddenly it’s his life’s mission to make me miserable.”

“Very cruel of him. Maybe you should tell him about how you collapsed after seeing an attractive barista. I’m sure he’d take pity on you.”

Harry blushed and scowled. Confessing how attractive he found the man seemed like a good idea at the time, when he was lying on the ground and staring at perfection incarnate, but now Cedric never failed to tease him about it.

“The only thing telling him would make him do is get me locked up in his secret dungeon. He probably has a giant snake down there that he would feed me to.”

Cedric snickered and locked eyes with Harry. “Well, if he ever does plot your demise, you should give me a call. I’ll help you fight him off. You take the tutor and I’ll take the giant snake.”

Harry frowned. “Cedric, you’re cute, but your arms are like twigs. Unless you can woo the snake by winking at it, you’d be dead in an instant.”

Cedric rubbed the back of his head bashfully and gave a shy little smile. “I was kind of trying to woo you, actually. Y’know, like, ‘give me a call?’ And then you’d be like, ‘Oh, but I don’t have your number,’ and I’d casually write it down like, ‘Well, you do now,’ or um, something like that.”

Oh. Oh! It seemed that Operation Coffee Shop Romance was succeeded at a much faster rate that Harry anticipated.

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “And why would an attractive barista like you want my number? I haven’t even gotten to the seduction part of my plans yet! I was going to spill coffee all over my shirt so you’d let me change in the backroom or something, where I’d commence sexily stripping.”

Cedric smiled fondly, “Why do I get the feeling you use the spilling coffee technique often?”

“Clearly because you recognize my advanced level seduction skills. I could write my own WikiHow. Anyways, you didn’t answer my question!” Harry said, wagging his finger menacingly.

Cedric shrugged. “You’re cute. I like how you come in every day just to see me and pretend like you’re here for the coffee. And the way you glance up at me over the top of your mug when you think I’m not paying attention.”

Harry harrumphed, “Bold of you to assume I’m only pretending to be here for the coffee. The mochas are very good, you know.”

“I know,” Cedric smirked. “I’m the one that makes them.”

Harry faltered a bit and blushed, glancing up shyly at Cedric. “You mean it? You’re… interested? Even though I’ve been kind of stalkerish?”

“Well, is it really stalking if it’s consensual?” Cedric mused.

“I dunno. Maybe it’s… dubious stalking. Dub-Stalk,” Harry snapped his fingers.

“I don’t… really know what that means.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Harry admitted, letting out a soft laugh.

“So…” Cedric said hesitantly, wringing his hands together. “Does this mean I can get your number, then?”

“What are you acting all nervous for?” Harry scoffed. “I fainted when I first saw you, and you think I’m going to say no? Obviously, you can have my number!”

Cedric let out a relieved breath, smiling. “You can’t blame me for being nervous! You’re all lovely and sweet, and I’m just… y’know. Even if you liked me at first, that doesn’t mean you still would once you got to know me!”

“Right…” Harry drawled. “That makes absolute sense. Not _only_ are you ridiculously attractive, but then I find out you’re also kind, and hard-working, and painstakingly genuine. You go out of your way to hold the door open for old grannies!”

Cedric pouted. Harry closed his eyes to protect himself from the cuteness. How could someone be such a hunk while also being so adorable?

“Don’t tease me!” Cedric harrumphed. “You could’ve liked the bad boy type, or something. And I bet you’re all popular at school, too!”

Harry choked on his coffee. “Excuse me?! I wear a dorky rainbow heart pin in my hair and you think I’m _popular?_ ”

Cedric squinted. “You can’t tell me you don’t have _at least_ three other boys waiting at your beck and call.”

“I don’t—” Harry faltered.

Wait a minute…

_Did he?_

There was Draco, who he gave a little smooch to that one time… And then Sirius, who apparently is kind of into him too? And then Tom liked to torture him, but he also kind of confessed his undying love in a ferris wheel?

Harry gasped.

“Oh my god, I’m _popular._ ”

Cedric snapped his fingers. “See! I told you so!”

“I practically have a— a— a harem!” Harry screeched.

Cedric simply gave a shit-eating grin in response to Harry’s flabbergasted expression.

“Don’t look so smug!” Harry cried. “This just means more competition for you, so shouldn’t you be more upset?!”

Cedric shrugged. “I think… I would be honored to be by your side, but if you choose someone else then… That just means they make you happier, and as long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

Cedric gave Harry such an earnest and pure smile that Harry couldn’t help but tear up.

“Oh, Cedric… You’re such a dream-boy,” Harry sighed, clasping one of Cedric’s hands in both of his own. “You can have my number. You can have my babies, too."

Cedric laughed and his eyes wrinkled in such a handsome way that Harry just _knew_ that if he had ovaries, they would be gone. They would have eloped with Cedric to Canada and lived happily ever after. Harry suddenly felt a slight pang of jealousy thinking about his ovaries starting a tomato garden with Cedric without him.

“Please don’t leave me for my ovaries,” Harry muttered in a daze.

“What?” Cedric choked out, eyes wide.

Harry shook his head, snapping out of it. “It’s nothing. Here, type in your number.”

Harry handed Cedric his phone, discretely adding an emoji next to his name when he got it back. It was essential to have a representative emoji for all of his contacts, and next to Cedric’s he put a bumblebee.

Because he was sweet as honey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the issue, i think, is that time is slowly slipping from my grasp. one day it's october, then suddenly it's 2021 and mr president is getting impeached 2.0. it's like when you read a fanfiction and it's slow paced but they also skip a lot of scenes so then you're like 'huh, did i miss something?' except instead of fanfiction it's real life and what i'm missing is my youth
> 
> anyways as an apology, here's a double update with two new characters!! hope you enjoy, and I will look forward to seeing all you lovely new and familiar faces in the comments! 
> 
> lots of love xx


	9. Chapter 9

Now, Harry did not see his roommate very often. Whenever Harry was in his dorm room, the other boy was either sleeping or off gallivanting who knows where. Harry saw him sometimes in the library reading up on serial killers. Serial killers! As such, Harry speculated that the boy was likely planning a murder and tended to stay away from him.

But of course, things never go well when you have Professor Snape as a teacher. Snape usually assigned Draco and Harry as lab partners, but one day he suddenly decided to switch things up. Because he was a sadist, obviously.

“Harry, today I’m pairing you with… Blaise.”

“What?! Why? Why can’t I work with Draco like I usually do?” Harry said in outrage.

“You two are getting along too well lately,” Snape said. “I don’t like it. You come here to learn, not to have fun.”

“You are an absolute butt nugget, do you know that?” Harry _wanted_ to say, but kept it to himself. Instead he sat next to Blaise Zabini and coughed.

“Alright, well, we’re lab partners for today,” Harry said, deciding that at the very least, he would try and act amicable. That way, if Blaise _did_ decide to kill someone, it wouldn’t be him.

“Oh,” Blaise seemed surprised. “Harry, right? My roommate?”

“Yup,” Harry said, popping the p sound. “We don’t see each other very often though.”

Blaise chuckled, “Yeah, you’re right. Well, maybe we can get to know each other now?” At that, Blaise smiled suavely and winked.

Harry wheezed.

It was at that moment Harry realized Blaise Zabini was actually _quite_ hot.

Harry was now stuck with the difficult decision of deciding whether or not to pursue a crush on a suspected serial killer. One on hand, murder was pretty bad. One the other hand, Blaise had very kissable lips.

What a dilemma.

“Harry?” Blaise said, grinning as he saw Harry snap out of his daze. “You there?”

“Theoretically,” Harry said, “what do you think the moral implications of flirting with a serial killer would be?”

Blaise raised his eyebrows, though he was still smiling. “I think it’d be pretty socially frowned upon. Is this about your crush on Tom Riddle?”

“What? No! How do you know I have a crush on Tom Riddle?” Harry gasped. “Also, he isn’t a serial killer!”

“Sure,” Blaise smirked. “I don’t trust him. I actually do a lot of reading on serial killers; it’s a hobby of mine. And he definitely gives me bad vibes.”

Harry squinted his eyes. Was Blaise really just going to admit to his weird serial killer obsession right off the bat? Very suspicious. “Why do you read about serial killers so much?”

“I dunno, I just find them kind of interesting,” Blaise shrugged.

Harry squinted his eyes even more. “Because you’re also a serial killer?”

“What?!” Blaise laughed outright. “Of course not! My dad’s actually in the FBI. Criminology runs in the family.”

“Oh,” Harry relaxed slightly. He liked the FBI; he watched a lot of Criminal Minds. Spencer Reid… Mm… “So, you’re not planning on killing anyone?”

“Did you think I was?” Blaise scoffed.

“Well…” Harry shrugged.

“Seriously?!”

“I mean, you’re always reading those books! I saw you reading one on medieval torture once!” Harry pouted.

“I assure you I definitely don’t want to murder anyone,” Blaise laughed.

Harry sighed in relief.

“On the other hand, it’s taught me quite a lot about bondage techniques, so if you’re ever interested…” Blaise trailed off with a wink. A _saucy_ wink.

Harry gasped. His roommate was never a serial killer, he was a fuckboy all along! What a reveal.

Catching Snape’s glare from across the room, Harry cleared his throat and got out his notes. “Right, so… lab project?”

“Lab project,” Blaise nodded solemnly.

\---

Blaise, as it turns out, was not very good at chemistry.

“Ugh, what on earth is a _lipid_ ,” Blaise groaned, smashing his head against the desk for the nth time. Class had ended a few hours ago, but since Blaise was struggling a bit, they decided to finish it up together at their dorm room later that evening. Their progress was… minimal.

“A lipid is a macrobiomolecule that is soluble in nonpolar solvents,” Harry recited dutifully from the text. He felt a bit like Hermione.

“Those words mean _nothing_ to me,” Blaise hissed. “I’m dropping this class, I don’t understand any of it.”

Harry frowned in sympathy, “I don’t think you can drop biology, Blaise, I’m sorry. It’s a core class.”

“More like it’s a core pain in my ass,” Blaise muttered.

Harry hummed thoughtfully. “Have you considered getting a tutor?”

“I don’t need a tutor,” Blaise sneered. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Hey,” Harry admonished. “Having a tutor doesn’t make you an idiot. There’s no shame in getting help.”

Blaise shrugged noncommittedly. “I guess...”

Harry tsked. “Don’t be so stubborn. You sound like Draco, and he’s a _Slytherin_. Would you want to be one of those? Absolutely not.”

There weren’t actually many tangible differences between the dorm houses, but because the Slytherin one was a bit more expensive to live in, all the posh families tended to send their kids there. And everyone knew the bourgeoisie _sucked._ Well, Draco was a bit okay. After he got over the whole... internalized homophobia thing. Soon he'd be helping bring down capitalism like the rest of the gays.

Blaise flinched, averting his eyes.

“Blaise, what’s up?” Harry asked, noticing his discomfort. “Is it about Draco, do you not like him or something? I know he’s a bit of a prick, but he’s working on it. He bought me a muffin the other day, isn’t that sweet?”

Blaise shook his head. “It’s not about Draco. It’s just that…” Blaise broke off, biting his lip harshly.

Harry frowned, closing his textbooks. “What’s wrong? You can tell me, Blaise. I’m a very good confidant.”

Blaise smiled a bit ruefully. “It’s just that… I was actually meant to live at the Slytherin dorms, at first.”

Harry’s mouth shaped into an ‘o’ of realization. “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you by making fun of Slytherin, I just—”

“It’s not that,” Blaise interrupted, giving Harry a reassuring smile, though it was a bit strained. “It’s just that… they kicked me out of the dorms just a few days before the first semester started, and my parents had to rush to get me an available dorm room. I’m lucky Gryffindor had one left, otherwise I might not have gotten to attend Hogwarts at all. I guess I’m just still a bit bitter.”

“What!” Harry squawked in outrage. “That’s messed up! Why would they do that?!”

Blaise’s eyes met Harry’s hesitantly, and shrugged.

“Blaise…” Harry consoled, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but just know you _can_ tell me anything you do want to. Look at my cute rainbow pin, doesn’t that just _scream_ safe space to you?”

Blaise laughed a bit, eyes warming. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Blaise opened his mouth to say more, but no words came out. Harry simply smiled encouragingly and waited patiently.

Clearing his throat, the boy found his voice and continued. “They kicked me out ‘cause I signed up to stay in a boy’s room, but apparently… Slytherin doesn’t allow trans boys to stay with other boys…” He shrugged. “But then they also don’t also them to stay with girls, ‘cause they identify as male. So it was kind of a lose-lose situation.”

Harry’s mouth fell open in shock.

“They said I could have a room if I changed my application to say female, but my dad and I told them to go fuck themselves,” Blaise’s eyes hardened. “I finally came out to my parents just a few years ago, I sure as hell wasn’t going back in just to live with the snakes,” he sneered.

Noticing Harry’s silence, Blaise stiffened slightly and stared at the ground, biting his lip again. He met Harry’s eyes again when the boy reached out to clasp Blaise’s hands in his own.

“Fuck them,” Harry stared into Blaise’s eyes and nodded solemnly.

Blaise’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Yeah?” he breathed out, relieved.

“Yeah,” Harry said determinedly. “They’re a bunch of nasty gits. They don’t deserve you, anyways. It’s good that you’re in Gryffindor, ‘cause you’re one of the hottest guys in our grade, which gives us superiority. The snakes can suck it.”

Blaise laughed, finally losing the strain in his voice.

“Are you sure? They have Tom Riddle, and I know you think he’s a hunk…” Blaise teased.

“Yeah, well, like you said… he’s practically a serial killer. That lowers his attractiveness by _at least_ five percent.”

“Only five?!” Blaise snorted.

“To be honest, I watched Hannibal recently, and he was kind of hot, so I think my morals have dropped a bit…”

Blaise gave Harry a pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Harry. If you become a mafia wife, I can use my FBI connections to keep you safe.”

“Blaise…” Harry sniffed. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

“In exchange…” Blaise smiled shyly, “tutor me a bit in chemistry?”

“Of course…” Harry nodded gravely. “After all, you can’t break me out of jail if Professor Snape kills you first. Did you see the glare he gave Neville when he didn't know what an amino acid was?”

Both of them shuddered at the memory. After giving Blaise his first official Harry Hug™, they went on to their studies.

After all, no amount of emotional bonding moments would protect them from Snape’s wrath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jk rowling who?  
> i don't know her 💅


End file.
